Joy, Happiness, Bliss, and Delight, and Other Possibilities

THINGS we have no idea about are all around us — things we have yet not experienced.

Because we are so wound up in the things of this world we lose sight of the wonder just over the horizon that we might otherwise see.

Many of us use what we have with no thought for the future. Yet, there is that still small voice in us saying, “Stop it, already… get down, and understand me.”

Many of us have resigned ourselves to the sadness in our sadder days instead of taking God there with us into the resonances of eternity in every true thing. Maybe God is showing us something we have never seen before. Openness accedes to surrender and through surrender is peace.

Many of us parachute into our daily existence, delaying the deployment of our main chute in favour of ripping rampantly at our escape chute. There is too much rush and hurry. Too much anxiety. Too much panic. Not enough space, joy, or hope.

Many of us wait not-so-patiently for our time off, without making the most of our time on. There are blessings to be had here, now, in the midst of the strains of life. Think laterally. Think like God.

Many of us have decided what we will do and we stubbornly stick to the plan, even when it’s clear it’s not working. Many of us, also, have no plan at all, and there is winsome wastage in knowing there is a choice to be made, yet we wait and wait and wait without committing to something.

Many of us are out in the rain without our umbrella, raincoat, or galoshes. Just as many of us are inside, dry and safe, fully adorned for a hailstorm. Being safe is superfluous if there is no danger. Taking risks is foolish if hazards are all about.

Many of us never realise the rainbow immediately behind us. We don’t think to turn and look and be blessed. We don’t look for the rainbow. But rainbows are everywhere, eternally.

As consistently as the sun sets and then hours later it rises again we have junctures of joy, happiness, bliss, and delight all around us — even intermittently in grief and concern and weariness.

© 2015 Steve Wickham.